


Lord, What Fools These (Cowboys) Be!

by Turmeric_Or_Not_To_Turmeric



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Also more people need to love Caduceus, Also there's so many spellings of Olomon, And for Fjord to get jealous, And why not a beefy minotaur?, Canon Compliant, Courtship, Fjord Has Feelings (Critical Role), Fjord your 7 wisdom is showing, For the most part, He Just Doesn't Know It Yet, Jealousy, Little bit of angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, References to Shakespeare, This is an excuse for someone to flirt with our firbolg, and ao3 only has one spelling so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 07:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26349115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turmeric_Or_Not_To_Turmeric/pseuds/Turmeric_Or_Not_To_Turmeric
Summary: It was curious; whenever Sunbreaker Olomon graced the Mighty Nein with a visit to the Xhorhaus, he always seemed to gravitate towards Caduceus. What’s even more peculiar is that Caduceus would do the same. In fact, most of his time spent there was with the firbolg, on the roof, drinking tea, talking, alone. Very much alone with just the two of them.Fjord absolutely hated it.Or, Sunbreaker Olomon, champion of Urzin, super hot minotaur, has fallen for a certain cleric, and Fjord's very jealous (even if he doesn't know it yet)
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord, Caduceus Clay/Sunbreaker Ulumon
Comments: 19
Kudos: 57





	1. I do desire that we may be better strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Pray you, stand further from me."

Fjord felt out of place. 

Well, he always has, being that he’s half human, half monster, but this was a different sort of out of place. Growing up, surrounded by humans who scorned him, his tusks, his skin, he tried his best to fit in, to appear as normal as possible. Yet now, in a peculiar turn of events, here he was in the City of Beasts, trying his hardest to not be a sore thumb of a human. Too grotesque to be human, but too frail to be an orc. Typical. He wasn’t alone, of course, the other members of their party were unusually colorful and most definitely not beasts, even while some were disguised with magic. So it was only inevitable they would draw some unwanted attention.

“We’ve got company.” Caduceus breathes out, just loud enough for the Nein to hear. 

Fjord glances over his shoulder to the direction he’s looking at, only to see the Minotaur, who they were previously following, walking directly towards them. Fjord’s stomach churns at the idea of a possible confrontation. The being was obviously one of importance, being escorted by a number of guards, and, being that they are wildly out of place, this cannot be good. A feeling of dread washes over him; anywhere would be better than here at this moment. 

He shoots a look at Caduceus, but unlike Fjord, a pleasant smile spreads across his lips. In his eyes there’s a genuine expression of warmth, directed to the mighty individual who approaches them. In some ways it calms the unease brewing within his chest, in others it evokes butterflies in his stomach, and somewhere in between begins a sharp panging sensation. Regardless, Fjord dons his usual mask, preparing for a either a hostile or pleasant encounter. 

When the Minotaur is within range, Caduceus bends his lanky torso in the form of a deep bow, a sign of respect. Fjord follows slightly, nodding his head in acknowledgment. The approaching figure holds up a hand to the two Kryn soldiers accompanying him, signifying them to stop and wait a short distance away from the group. Up close, the already magnificent individual is somehow even more impressive up close. Pristine jet black fur, glistening in the light, onyx eyes filled with purpose and presence, chiseled features sharper than a blade, grand, strong horns. Beautiful silvered armor with intricately carved designs; now that they’re closer, it appears as if the engravings tell a story, little vignettes carved into the metal permanently entombing history into an object to be worn with pride. The deep, piercing eyes scan over their group, inspecting them one by one. For a moment, his gaze lingers on the still bowing firbolg at the front. His head tilted slightly.

“I must admit I have not seen you within the city before.” A deep, rich voice, smooth but dominating. It didn’t come off as a sign of aggression, but nonetheless intimidating by nature. Caduceus’ head rises at the voice, his mellow, warm expression still present. Fjord glances in his direction, but it seems as if the normally tall man felt abnormally small. 

“This is our first time here.” He drawls, voice low, gentle and humble. A voice he’s never quite heard from him before. The edge of the Minotaur's lip tilts up, almost amused at the colorful firbolg.

"So color me curious. What is your business, and whom do you serve?” 

Caduceus turns to the half orc beside him, pink eyes uncertain, almost questioning him what he should do. Fjord opens his mouth for a second before closing it and shooting back a slightly panicked look. A small smile, a smile of reassurance returns to his face as he turns back to the giant before them.

“Our business is, we're looking to collect some transport, maybe do a little trade while we're in town, and head on our way. As to our service, we are private contractors on what I will say, of the many missions that we've put forward, is one of our truer, more noble missions at this point.” 

Caduceus spoke with a suave eloquence, weaving words together to form a lie of his own making; something that Fjord didn’t even know he was capable of executing. As per usual, where others stumbled, the cleric would pick up and take care of the fallen, even if it wasn’t something he was used to doing. The Minotaur raised an interested eyebrow in response.

"Contractors? What is your business?" 

“Whatever we're being contracted for. At this point, just—”

"Sellswords?" 

“Sometimes.” A lilt to the firbolg’s voice, almost playful.

“Smugglers,” Fjord chimes in, trying to aid Caduceus in his deception. Something in their voices made him uneasy with the conversation happening before his eyes. Perhaps it’s this city, or the intimidating presence of the one before them, but an uncomfortable tension hangs above them.

“Sometimes.” Caduceus repeats, still staring at the bull in front of him. A full smirk appears on his face, the black eyes creasing slightly at the edges.

"Tell me; From where do you hail?" 

“Everywhere.” A lopsided smile returned on Caduceus’ end, full of mirth as he answered the inquiry. Something turns in Fjord, a strange, unfamiliar feeling.

“Nogvurot, for me, yeah.” He blurts out without thinking, the lie flowing easily through the twang of his accent. Why, he can’t say, but something just doesn’t sit right. The Minotaur shoots a side eye at the half orc, a look of annoyed confusion sent in his direction before returning a searching gaze in the direction of the taller man. He nods to the firbolg and shifts his weight to his other hoof, the light gleaming off of the polished silver of his chestplate. Caduceus’ gaze immediately shifts to the metal, letting out a sigh of admiration. Fjord feels a grimace begin to form before he swiftly schools his features. What on Exandria is troubling him?

“That is beautiful, by the way, I've never seen anything like it before.” The compliment almost seems to slip out unconsciously, spilling from his mind. 

"And you never will. Handmade."

“Gorgeous,” Caduceus breathes out. 

Caduceus has always loved finely crafted pieces, sure. He’s definitely overthinking this; the Minotaur happens to have armor with superb craftsmanship and he appreciates the work. Nothing more.

“Near-umavi ascension?” 

“Hm?” Fjord blinks and looks down at Nott who now stands between him and Caduceus. What did he miss?

"You're definitely not from around here, are you?" The black furred individual huffed at the smaller woman.

“Very much not.” Gaze shifting back to Caduceus, softening, holding some sort of emotion; amusement? Knowing? This was all so frustrating.

"Well. Sellswords, if you're looking for work, there is work here in these lands in a time of war.” He then tells them of a place to get work; something about the Aurora Hold and a woman named Zethriss (Zethir? Zethin?) Olios. Fjord was too focused on the tension building up in the back of his throat.

“That is very generous of you!” A broad smile this time from Caduceus. Fjord quickly cuts him off, looking for something to talk about other than the Minotaur's generosity.

“I'm sorry,” an apology that would be insincere if he weren’t as good at deception, “Forgive our impertinence, we didn't ask for your name.”

The Minotaur narrows his eyes and tilts his chin up, shooting him a look of incredulous irritation, as if the very question was an insult to him personally.

"I have had many names through many lives, but the one I take now is Sunbreaker Olomon." He says it with pride and there’s a slight part of Fjord that thinks that is a cool ass name. Only a sliver; the rest is clouded by his disdain for their current interaction. He looks back, specifically at Caduceus, a courteous expression replacing his less pleasant one.

“And what would your name be?”

“Oh, Caduceus. Caduceus Clay.” 

“Caduceus Clay.” the Sunbreaker grins, savoring the way it seems to feel.

“Captain Tusktooth,” Fjord coughs to bring his attention back to him. Courtesy be damned, he needs to get off their cleric’s back. A grimace graces his features.

“Captain… Tusktooth?”

“Nott the Brave!” Nott chimes in, shooting him a toothy smile, “And, if I may ask, is there a Mrs. Sunbreaker, or...?”

Well, at least Nott was helping in her own way. The Sunbreaker raised his brows, very much amused at the tiny goblin before him.

"Heh, no, Nott the Brave.” An awkward moment of pause washes over them before he clears his throat, telling the whole group, “ Well, don't make any messes," and turns around before pausing to look over his shoulder to Caduceus. 

“Perhaps we will meet again.” shooting a wink, he walks off, joining the two Kryn guards waiting for him a couple paces away. 

“Pleasure. I like it here.” Caduceus straightens up from his previously slouched position, staring off in the direction of the Sunbreaker, Nott and Jester freaked out as he did.

“Did you see the way? I think he winked at you. I think I saw—”

“I couldn’t tell!”

“I thought he winked at me, but that's fine.” Fjord hears the firbolg mumbles to himself. Fjord turns his head fully to Caduceus, who’s still watching the Minotaur go. His ears twitched downward a little, something of disappointment, and, although at first hard to see, under the fur of his cheek a light dusting of pink flowering on his skin, complimenting the pink of his hair. Fjord clears his throat, that bubble of discomfort clearing from his system. 

“We should- we should probably get going, right Ducey?” Caduceus perks up as he turns his attention to Fjord.

“Yeah, let's head into the, uh,” 

“Livery,” 

“Livery and see if there's a conversation.” he grins halfheartedly before shaking his head and meandering over to the hut they were approaching before their encounter. He waits a moment then follows from the back of the group.

A hand hits his back with a little too much force. Fjord jumps before immediately swinging his head to see a shocking shade of red, quickly reminding himself that this was none other than a disguised Beauregard.

“Hey dude, you good? You seem kinda off.”

“Hm? I guess I’m just, I dunno, that guy was real—”

“Hot?”

“What? No—”

“Intense?”

“Well, yeah but—”

“Totally flirting with Caduceus?”

Fjord stops, mouth agape, blood draining from his face, leaving him a pallid shade of green. Beau stops beside him, arms crossed, a single eyebrow raised.

“Did you actually not look at the way they were looking at each other? That he got super pissed at you for interrupting? Wait why did you interrupt? Shit, are you jealous of Caduceus?”

“No, Gods no! He was just acting real…” Invasive? Strange? “... Focused. On Caduceus. Yeah; I guess I just got a lil’ overprotective is all, with all that attention on one of our own.”

Beau shoots him a look.

“Uh huh. Sure. Not jealous at all.” she rolls her eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

She pushes on ahead, leaving him behind with his thoughts. He lets out a quiet sigh. Perhaps he was just acting too overprotective towards their group. Perhaps he just wasn’t used to Caduceus being the center of attention. Or perhaps, and more probably, the irritation all lived in his head. The people, the city, everything was definitely making him uneasy. As soon as they find a way to get Nott’s husband out of imprisonment, they’ll never have to step foot in this country ever again. And they’ll never have to see Mr. Sunbreaker ever again too; a comforting thought.

...Wait, did Nott flirt with the Minotaur?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, oh boys, hello. It's been years since I've written a fic, let alone posted one. This has been living in my brain for a long while, so I wanted to get it out before my inspiration (and time) disappears (also thank you fjorclay discord for motivation to get these two up into the top ten on this site; I lurk, but I appreciate it). I hope you like'd it!


	2. In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be horn-mad."

A firm knock sounds from the entrance hall of the Xhorhaus. 

Beau, who had been on a warpath to the kitchen for a hard drink after a hard workout in the training room, groans, dragging her feet to the front door. Company was one of the last things she wanted. There was a good chance this person was one of the residents in their neighborhood, coming to either meet the new outsiders that planted a tree on the roof, complain about the tree on the roof, or, as the drow aristocrat across from them phrased it, “voice their opinions” about the tree on their roof. Which, within the span of a week since the manor was gifted to them, has occurred far too often and it’s starting to grate on her nerves.

“Look man, I don’t care who you are, go shove your bullshit elitist opinions up your— oh. Well shit. Hi, uh, give me one sec.” she frantically slams the door with more force than anticipated before calling out to the rest of the house, “Guys! Get down here we have company!”

A cacophony of footsteps sounds in response, the members of the Nein rushing towards the order. A couple of mutters of confusion, a hiding of Yeza, and an ink- stained wizard tripping down the stairs later, they eventually crowd in the small room that comprises the foyer.

“What’s going on?”

“Okay so you remember that one guy we met in, you know, that one city we first went to? The fucking bad ass one? With the horns? The Minotaur?”

Fjord chokes, throwing him into a coughing fit.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Funbreaker Almond?”

“No, no, it was something dope like Earthbreaker Ulumon.” 

“Sunbreaker Olomon.” 

Fjord side eyes to the one who whispered the correct name, his pink eyes glittering with surprise. Something sour filled his mouth, the name itself sounded worse coming from him.

“Yeah that. So, he’s like, on our front porch right now—” Fjord feels his knees give for a moment before stabilizing himself.

“I’m sorry what?!”

“and I’m freaking the fuck out because how the hell does he know where we live and what could he possibly want?” 

“Beauregard, I’m sure there’s some reasonable explanation, just open the door.”

“No no, we need some sort of plan, he has guards out there. Why would he come here with guards? Like—”

“Guards? Well that changes things—”

“Guys! He was really cool that one time, he’s probably really sweet and wants to hang out! And probably not a dick.”

“Well, well, but hold up Jes, last time he saw us, we were disguised and a lot less human, we should talk it—”

While they’re discussing a small, translucent hand hovers in the air for a moment then reaches for the handle on the door. It unlocks with a click swinging open, wind chimes tinkling obnoxiously. The subject of their conversation stood tall waiting patiently at the entrance of their abode. They all immediately freeze, mouths partially agape, all except Nott, who gives a toothy grin and a delighted wave. 

Sunbreaker Olomon was just as impressive as the day they first saw him. His silvered armor still shined even under a rich cloak of maroon that hung on his shoulders, a shade complimenting the ebony of his fur. True to her words, a trio of Kryn guards waited behind him, escorts to an individual of power. They stood a further distance away but still close enough to engage if need be. His dark eyes scanned over the scene before him, a hint of mirth peaking through as he observed the chaos that is the Mighty Nein.

“You lot have certainly changed since our first meeting.” The rich voice filled their ears, accent just as thick and just as dominating as before; unease filled the pit of Fjord’s stomach.

“I must admit, when I first caught word of a group of ‘sellswords’ returning one of our sacred beacons, a small part of me thought of the colorful band I met in Asarius. I’m impressed. For those from outside of the Dynasty, that you’ve managed quite a feat, and we are- I, am grateful for your service.”

“We were only doing what was right; we of the Empire do not want this war anymore than you. If we can help bring it to an end, restore some semblance of peace, it will have been worth it.” Caleb clears his throat, hesitating before continuing, “But, if I may ask, what is the purpose of your visit? If needed, we can be of assistance, but uh, we are, how do you put it, a little flabbergasted that you are here.”

The Sunbreaker lets out a gentle hum, bowing his head graciously.

“Forgive my intrusion, it was not my intention to startle. Simply put, you lot have piqued my curiosity.” His eyes flicker over to Caduceus, standing towards the back but still towering over the others, “And I would be lying if I did not wish to meet you, this group, once more.”

He shifts his weight from hoof to hoof, almost in an expectant, but still patient, manner. Jester is absolutely beaming, pulling the door open even further and making a gesture to usher him towards the foyer. 

“Please, come in, come in! we’ve got tea and pastries, oh, and Caduceus makes this wonderful drink with turmeric—”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, it’s so good man, he calls it a White Xhorh—”

Beau clamps her mouth shut, a grimace blossoming from her silence. She shoots a side eye to the firbolg at her side and Fjord glances over to see a subtle foot firmly planted on hers, a mild Caduceus smile masking a strained expression. 

“I call it Turmeric or Not to Turmeric.” 

Their guest lets out a laugh, the exclamation grating like nails against a chalkboard as it graced Fjord’s ears. But to Caduceus, who was glowing from the reaction, it was more akin to that of a rumble of thunder, loud and strong and comforting all at once. 

“That is very clever my friend, a wonderful play on words.”

“I try; I’m always a big fan of being clever.”

Fjord rolls his eyes internally; of course it’s clever, no need to point it out. The Sunbreaker locks in on Caduceus, steely gaze meeting gentle respect, as if they were the only two people present. He takes three long strides, past the threshold of the door to stand in front of him. Only inches away, eyes level but the Minotaur still managed to overshadow him; be it by his horns or just the mere presence, he couldn’t tell. Fjord scooted back unconsciously, the reason why clouded by the sheer suffocating feeling of discomfort, like he was watching something infinitely intimate unfold before him. 

“Caduceus Clay, yes?” he nods his head once, mouth slightly agape in surprise. The Minotaur hums in acknowledgement before continuing, “I would very much like to try this concoction, to see if it is as delectable as its name.”

“Certainly, of course, I can go, uh, brew it up.” Caduceus was flushed a pale pink underneath the light fur dusting his face. Before he can take his leave, Beau claps her hand on his back, keeping him in the room.

“Hey again, still here, love how you wanna try Caduceus’ stuff, it’s real good, don’t get me wrong, but can we like move somewhere not here? And also can you tell your guards to kindly fuck off?”

He raises an eyebrow at her, as if snapped out of a trance, lifting his chin in indignation, an expression bordering on that of how dare you. But as quickly as it comes he lets out a gentle huff of air, corners of his mouth quirking up to replace his displeasure.

“My men cannot ‘fuck off,’ they are here for your protection more than my own. But, if it would make you more comfortable, they will stay here, in the entrance to your home. That is acceptable?” 

Beau nods, shooting a shady look towards the guards who step into the foyer, stoic expressions and armored bodies crowding them in. She pats Caduceus a couple of times before turning to head further into the house, signaling the rest of them to follow her. It doesn’t escape Fjord how the Minotaur and the cleric walk side by side with their hands almost touching as they move towards their destination. Or how he leans in to murmur something to him, or how Caduceus places a hand on his bicep, seemingly complimenting his cloak's softness.

Once settled in the sitting room (Living room? Happy room? It was one of those but Fjord still had no idea, they hadn’t settled on one quite yet), they engaged in light conversation as Caduceus left to prepare refreshments for the lot (which, point of order, why hadn’t he gone directly to the kitchen in the first place?). It was strange really, the image of the Sunbreaker, this massive man, sitting alone on a chaise lounge. One would think he’d be too big for it or it would prove uncomfortable, but as they engaged in niceties he was nothing but dignified. The furniture may have been dwarfed not by his physical form, but by that of his presence, imposing and powerful and full of grandeur. Across the room, Fjord felt himself slouch his shoulders slightly and brought his hand over his mouth to cover his tusks casually, pressing down.

When Caduceus pops back in to join them, he comes bearing a tray of drinks. It consisted of an array of mismatched glasses, mugs, tea cups, a single tankard, most likely whatever he could find in the cupboards that would hold a liquid. The Nein weren’t picky when it came to dishware, even in the presence of their esteemed guest. His entrance barely disturbed their conversation, passive as always as he went around the room handing out the cups of something. He hands Fjord a simple, round cerulean mug with hand painted vines curled around the handle. Yellow liquid frothed within, welcoming and aromatic sunlight in a cup. He shoots Caduceus a small smile in thanks before bringing the drink to his lips, letting the sweetness and spice of the drink flow through him. There’s an earthiness, slight bitterness, not of that of alcohol (to his mild disappointment), but something comforting nonetheless. 

Over the rim of his mug, he sees Caduceus pass a rounded clay teacup, beautiful landscape of a forest carved into the expanse of the pottery, to their guest. As he does so, their hands brush as the Sunbreaker murmurs words of gratitude. Perhaps it’s because his hands were too large to avoid contact, perhaps it was from a lack of care, perhaps it’s all just accidental. But as the Minotaur takes a sip (which in itself is almost comical, this large creature with this minuscule teacup), he lets out a gentle hum, eyes twinkling with a certain something as he places a hand on the cook’s shoulder. 

“Caduceus, this is wonderful, truly. Delicious.” 

He squeezes for a moment before removing it, moving slightly to the left on the chaise lounge, gesturing for him to sit down beside him. He obliges, lanky form settling close to the rather sturdy one. The conversation returns to its original course, now with a Caduceus nursing a plain cup of his own, listening in content. It shifts from here to there, politics and general comparison of culture (at some point diving into consecution), and then to stories of Sunbreaker Olomon’s exploits and adventures, of his many lives before the one he has now, of his victory of Urzin, of his past battles won and lost, some of them dating hundreds of years ago.

“But I must say, in all my lives and all my time spent here in Rosohna, I have never seen such a tree, let alone one on a roof. Quite a choice. How did you manage such a feat?”

Jester perks up, eyes wide, nearly knocking Caleb off of their shared furniture.

“That was all Caduceus! Isn’t he so cool? He had a super magic feather that grew trees and now we have one on the roof and, like, so many other plants. It’s very pretty! He made it all by himself; I’m sure he’d love to show you around.” She wiggles her eyebrows, in a mischievous way that only she could pull off, looking between the two. Caduceus scratches the side of his head as he looks down sheepishly.

“And we have a hot tub, if you’re interested in taking a dip.” Nott pops in, winking at the much larger man. Caduceus’ face was about as pink as his hair at the suggestion but the Sunbreaker merely raises an eyebrow and shakes his head.

“I will… keep that in mind.” He turns to Caduceus, eyes softening. An earnest look floods his face, kind and courteous despite the general imposing aura he always seemed to emit unconsciously. 

“I would not be opposed to a tour of your garden, if you are willing. I am fond of greenery, and I am curious to see how they thrive under the sunless sky of our city.”

Caduceus looks up at him, dumbfoundedly delighted at the response. Those who popped by before to inquire about the tree were typically snobby “elitists” as Beau put it, so having someone with genuine interest ask to see his small corner of the house without judgment was a lovely change of pace. 

“I, of course! It would be my pleasure. Just, uh, excuse me for a moment to clean up and we—”

“I’ll do it. You two go.” Yasha interjects, standing up to collect cups from the group.

“Yeah, we got it man.” Beau pops up to help, grabbing both his cup and their guest’s, subtly nodding to Caduceus, smug smirk that only he could pick up before turning away. They all start to disperse, seeing as someone else took over entertaining their unexpected visitor. Fjord sits, still drinking from his mug despite the lack of drink, watching the two wearily. The large Minotaur form stands, towering above Caduceus as he offers a hand to help him up. He takes it and is pulled up to meet the Sunbreaker, centimetres between the two. Their hands are still clasped together as they share the same breath.

“Lead the way, friend.” His voice rumbles, and Caduceus feels those vibrations to his very core. They stay there for a moment, the Minotaur's eyes locked onto his own. He lets out a breath and smiles before pulling himself away, ambling to the door. The Sunbreaker’s head turns to follow him as he goes, head tilted slightly, eyes crinkled at the corner before moving to accompany him. Jester tiptoes to the door, watching them exit the hall. As soon as she’s sure he’s out of earshot, she squeals.

“Holy shit man, he totally likes Caduceus!”

"Did you see the way they were looking at each other? Caduceus was practically undressing him with his eyes!" Fjord wrinkles his nose, snapping in response.

"What? Nott, pretty sure that was you. Ducey wouldn't do that." She gasps, eyebrows shooting up higher than necessary.

"Fjord! I'm a married woman! How dare you! And even if I were, you can't blame me because he is fucking hot!"

“Yeah I don't know Fjord, he was into it. And Sunbreaker was definitely hitting on Cad back in Asarius as well. Didn’t realize he was that into him.” Beau balances the cups precariously on top of each other as she talks, taking one from Yasha and adding it to her tower. Fjord begrudgingly (frantically, if he’s being honest) jumps up to remove some of the cups that were teetering dangerously (he knew for a fact one of Caduceus’ favorite teacups was the second from the top and he was not going to let that break if he could help it).

“They’re cute. Good for him.” Yasha murmurs with a gentle, small grin. He scoffs at the two of them gossiping.

“Well, I’m sure it’s nothin'; we caused a lot of heads to turn with that beacon mess. Actually, if anythin’, we should be careful around him. I don’t trust him.” 

“I got a good read on him. He’s alright. Intense as fuck, yeah, but sincere. And if Caduceus likes him, he’s probably trustworthy. Chill out man.” Beau looks at him for a moment, searching for something before shrugging and continuing her balancing act. He lets out a sigh, eyeing the hallway.

They’re right; he’s overreacting. Caduceus is just being a kind host, showing him around the garden (or, technically, his room). Nothing serious. It’s not like they haven’t entertained nosy folks before, so why is it different now?

A couple days later, a knock at the door. A Minotaur waited patiently in the doorway with guards behind him, then a gracious Caduceus led him up to the garden. And then the next, and the next, and over a short period of time this became a normal occurrence, he visited, maybe conversed with some of the Nein, then went to the garden. Whenever they were back in town, back home, the Sunbreaker somehow caught wind of it and stopped by. And every time he did, Caduceus hurriedly put a kettle on to boil. 

It’s curious; whenever Sunbreaker Olomon graced the Mighty Nein with a visit to the Xhorhaus, he always seemed to gravitate towards Caduceus. What’s even more peculiar is that Caduceus would do the same. In fact, most of his time spent there was with the firbolg, on the roof, drinking tea, talking, alone. Very much alone with just the two of them.

Fjord absolutely hated it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I create my username before writing this? Yes. Did I realize it would be mentioned here to such an extent? No. Do I regret it? Only mildly.
> 
> Also, In regards to Willy Shakes, things may or may not get a little funky in the foreseeable future.


	3. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”  
> “O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;  
> They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”

As far as he could tell despite the sunless sky, it was about mid afternoon when he made his journey up the stairs of the tower. They’d just returned from the Uthodern, from the forge, from impulsive decisions, from his transformation, returning as a different, better man. Things have changed, and Caduceus has been there for him, supported him in both his hour of need and as a guide to his new religion. 

Religion; the word strikes him as strange, unfamiliar as it crosses his mind. He was never one for faith, but there she was, and there he was, to pull him from the depths of his old patron into the light of her own. It was warm, a feeling he hasn’t felt for a long time. There’s a renewed spirit within him, a new purpose pushing him forward, eager to ask him about her, to learn, to experience that feeling again.

Feet moving of their own volition, Fjord hadn’t realized he’d reached the top of the staircase until he was standing under open sky, a crisp wind dancing across his skin, warmth dashed away. It was then he realized the background noise of low murmurs had come to a halt, leaving the garden absent of noise. He scans the area, eyes finally landing on the scene before him. Caduceus was there, as expected, sitting at a small table located near the edge of the tower, but there was another figure sitting across from him, two hands clasped around a slender one. He shoots him a smile, ears tilting downward and rosy cheeks darkening as he pulls his hand away from Sunbreaker Olomon. Fjord’s mouth opens and closes for a moment, trying to find the words, to apologize? To excuse himself? To holler in shock? He shakes his head internally, that’s stupid, he should’ve known this would happen, it’s not unusual. He’s just never sought Caduceus out when he’s had company; he’s never needed to. 

“Hey there,” Caduceus’ low voice carries, gentle tone, always so inviting even at the most inopportune time.

“I, ah, I can come back later.” His voice cracked somewhere and he cleared his throat, retreating backwards down the stairs. The Sunbreaker removes his hand from between them, giving him a courteous nod and standing up to his full height to face their visitor.

“No need, I was about to take my leave.” He looks him up and down, eyes narrowed. “You are… changed? You have seen more battle since the last time we met, I see.” Fjord stands befuddled for a second until he catches his drift.

“Oh, well, you know, not exactly; uh, seaweed wraps. That’ll do it for you.” He pats his bicep in an unpracticed manner before moving it to rub the back of his neck, wincing. The Minotaur looks at him with an even more perturbed look until a flash of recognition crosses his face and he turns to Caduceus.

“He is the one you spoke of, yes?” Caduceus nods, taking a sip of his tea, eyes crinkled at the corners with a pleased look coloring his features. Fjord’s eyes widened; he talked about him? The Sunbreaker lets out a hearty laugh, turning back to him full of mirth. “Of course, you are the one chosen by his goddess. Heh, I knew her power is equal to that of the Luxon, but now it is clear she really can create miracles.”

Fjord’s jaw clenches as he grins back, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. The air feels colder, around him, icy, nipping at his exposed skin.

“The Wildmother has done many things I’d consider a miracle. I'm one, small example of such.” A warm breeze tickles his cheek, a comforting feeling that sedates the hostility building up in his chest. He looks over at the seated figure who seemed to be staring at Fjord but his eyes were glazed over, deep in thought. “I’m sure Caduceus has told you of more, impressive, gifts she’s given her followers.”

His eyebrows quirk up at the mention of his name, taken out of his daze. The Sunbreaker tilts his head as he looks back to the firbolg. He smiles as he reaches for the hand he held not so long ago and takes it in his own, bringing it up to his lips to kiss the back of it. It’s a gesture Fjord couldn’t discern the meaning of, but it was jarring all the same. The Sunbreaker shifts his gaze to meet his pale eyes, absentmindedly running his rather large thumb across pale knuckles.

“I have seen the gifts she has granted this world. My Catha is one of them.” His Catha? His? They share a look, tender and intimate, one might even call it loving. It was a natural expression for Caduceus, one he’s seen before, the one he saw not so long ago. But on the other, this gargantuan being, it was odd and foreign, uncomfortable to witness. The Minotaur breaks away, grinning back at Fjord. “Do not worry, friend, I merely joke. I respect your faith as much as my own.”

The amusement settles, a more serious, thoughtful demeanor taking its place.

“You look good; strong. Do not waste the gifts given to you by your goddess. Caduceus has told me much of you, and I do not doubt your worthiness. I wish you well on your newfound path.” 

He bows his head, so low he almost matches the half-orc’s height. Fjord mirrors the gesture to a lesser extent, more of a quick, stiff nod. He turns to the firbolg beside him, shooting him a look of endearment before kneeling in front of him. After a moment, his other hand goes to push a stray strand of pink hair behind his ear before resting it on his cheek. Words are whispered between them, an exchange of some language he couldn’t comprehend.

Then the unexpected occurred. Or, rather, it wasn’t unexpected, in hindsight it made sense, but in that moment something was confirmed that Fjord had been denying for longer than he cared to admit. Sunbreaker Olomon leaned in to close the small gap between him and Caduceus, hand traveling downward to tilt his chin up as he pressed his lips softly to his own. It’s tender, sweet, not of lust or desire, but something more, something infinitely stronger and spoke of whatever connection they’ve cultivated together.

Fjord immediately looked away, head moving on its own to look anywhere but there, landing on Rosohna’s dancing lights illuminating the otherwise dark scene. Heat flush his face, a familiar creeping sensation, near identical to all the times he used to walk in on Molly and whoever he picked up at a bar (and yet somehow, even though both of them are fully clothed, this felt a lot worse).

… They had certainly gotten closer last time he checked. Real close.

He hears a shuffle of what he can assume is hooves and peaks over hesitantly. The Sunbreaker has stood up, cloak sweeping with a flourish as he approaches the stairs. Before he steps down, he locks eyes with Fjord and pats him on the shoulder, probably with a little too much force. He barely nods in return, opting to look at the lustrous chestplate instead of making eye contact with the other man. He takes his leave, the sound of heavy footfalls getting softer and softer until it’s just the two of them. Fjord shifts his weight from side to side, head still locked in place where the Minotaur had stood seconds ago. 

“Tea?” He hears Caduceus offer. Out of the corner of his eye he sees him get up to put a kettle to boil. “What can I do for you?”

He turns, face still flushed, and walks over to sit in the clearing underneath the tree, soft grass cushioning the ground. The wind feels cool on his skin, the rustle of leaves above him soothing in a way he’s never known trees to be.

“Sorry for interrupting, I didn’t realize he was here.” He exhales, an attempt to force a chuckle that fell flat. He shifts his gaze to watch Caduceus’ back as he works with his makeshift stove.

“No worries,” He responds distantly, dropping a small amount of tea leaves into the pot (this particular blend originating from the Sunas family, a lovely group of half-elves, honey tongued but kind followers of the Archeart. It’s a very floral tea, sweet, with some notes of citrus and something herbal hidden underneath). Fjord focuses on the way his hair sways in the breeze, cascading pastel waves with stray bits of white snaking through. “As much as I enjoy his company, I’m always available if you need me.”

Caduceus looks over his shoulder with a placid smile which he returns halfheartedly. His eyebrows draw upwards almost imperceptibly as he studies his face, before he turns and busies himself once more, pouring the hot water into the teapot. Fjord hesitates for a moment, debating whether he should bring it up or not, but in the end his mouth got the better of him, words flowing out before he could stop himself.

“So, how long has that been a thing?” His voice comes out a higher pitch than he had expected just as Caduceus’ movements come to a halt.

“How long has what been a thing?” He turns around holding a wooden tray adorned with a teapot and two clay cups.

“You know, you and Sunbreaker— he uh, he ki— hm, he’s uh, physically… touchy?”

“Oh! That,” His expression softens as he approaches Fjord, sitting down on the grass across from him and placing the tray between them. 

“Yeah. That.” he runs his tongue over the points of his tusks, distractedly fiddling with a close by plant.

“He’s affectionate in his own way is all.” His voice laced with fondness as he answered. A pause falls over them, Fjord expecting more of a response that never came. He clears his throat, gently nudging the conversation further.

“If I may ask, he called you, what, Catha? My Catha, or, sorry, his Catha?” 

“Ah, that’s just something he calls me. It’s fitting.” He smiles, the edges of his eyes creasing, a sort of affection glazed over his eyes as he lifts the pot to pour the tea into the cups, a practiced movement that takes little effort at all. He picks up one of the cups, offering it to the man across from him. Fjord returns with a gracious smile, albeit a distracted one, as he accepts the tea from him. Their hands brush, viridian covering pearl for just a moment, the light coating of fur tickling his palms, taking the tea. He guides it to his lips and warmth floods through him, nerves and unease gradually melting away from a single sip.

“I don’t doubt it but, why exactly is it fitting?” He knew he was pushing now, silly as it was, but there was a nagging sensation at the back of his mind that needed to hear from the man himself. Caduceus raises his own drink to hover in front of him, staring into his tea. There’s a new expression covering his features, something Fjord’s never seen. Behind his eyes, there was an ocean of, of something, something unsure, shy and hesitant, but also something tender and caring. A mix of emotions, an unfamiliar shade on one who’s always so certain.

“He’s my Sun and I’m his moon,” the corners of his lips quirk up, a bashful smile creeping onto his features. His thumb runs across the teacup, following the horizontal grooves in the pottery. “I think it’s charming.”

Oh. ‘Sun’-breaker and one of the moons (the more beautiful one, of course, which just so happens to start with a C). Makes sense.

“It really is, isn’t it.” Fjord replies absentmindedly. There’s a strain in his chest, an ache, one of which he wasn’t sure why. “Does that mean, are you two… together?”

“I mean we’re together a lot of the time, but not right now. I’m with you.”

“That’s not quite what I mean.” He lets out a breathy chuckle, taking a deep breath that lingers in his lungs as he continues. “Are you seeing him in, like, romantically? Or does he just smooch everyone he likes?”

It’s Caduceus’ turn to laugh, a low rumble, full of mirth. Yet his cheeks were significantly rosier, complimenting the pink of his irises.

“Well, if that were true, he’d have kissed you too!” He wrinkles his nose playfully at him which Fjord returns with an almost similar expression were it not for the grimace on his lips. He feels his stomach lurch at the thought; the idea of kissing him felt wrong (then again the idea of kissing anyone felt wrong all the same. Hell, even the idea of anyone else kissing Caduceus felt wrong). He clears his throat, removing a tense lump starting to form.

“Something makes me think that’s not necessarily true. Also, that’d be weird, really, really weird,” Caduceus’ amusement falls, apologetic for making him uncomfortable. Fjord’s expression softens, “I mean, not that it’s weird you’re ki— that he kissed y— it’s not strange at all. Totally cool, no judgement here.”

He takes a swig of his tea, emptying the rest of his drink in one gulp, silence sinking in though his worries are still unresolved. He stares down at the bits of tea leaves speckled across the bottom of the cup, a little galaxy of herbs in his hands. He feels that knowing gaze he’s all too familiar with burning into his skin, always observing, always listening. He bites his lip, the points of his tusk digging into the inside of his mouth. 

“You know you’re avoiding my question, Caduceus.”

It’s hushed in its delivery but he knows full well that the man across from him heard every word. He sighs, more of a rumble akin to that of a storm rolling in, setting his teacup down and tucking a stray hair behind his ear.

“In some ways, yes, others, no.” He stops for a moment, eyes partially glazed over in thought. “I enjoy his company and he enjoys mine. It’s nice to have someone to share a pot of tea, and he’s very kind, and we talk.”

Fjord shoots him a look, eyebrow cocked.

“What? We talk a lot. A lot of everything, a lot of nothing, sometimes plants, sometimes his lives, sometimes my life, sometimes of you—”

“Me? Sometimes? More than once?”

“Oh, well, you’re someone worth talking about. I am proud of you, you know.” A warmth floods his body, origin not necessarily from the tea. Caduceus smiles at him before averting his gaze, running his hands across the grass beneath them, little assorted fungi sprouting as he does. “He knows a lot of interesting things; he’s an interesting man. Even knows of Sylvan tales I haven’t heard in a long, long time, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Twelfth Night—”

“Wait, Shakespeare? You know Shakespeare?” Fjord’s eyes are wide, almost amused at the idea of Caduceus possibly showing interest in something as gaudy as that.

“Is that his name? Well, then yes, my father used to tell us those stories when we were younger, tales he was told by his parents before he moved to the Grove. They were fascinating, whimsical, romantic,” A fond smile washes over his face, melancholic in a way, but pleasant all the same. “On occasion we’d play pretend, running around the woods as if we were in the Feywild.” 

“That’s very sweet,” he breathes out, a smile now dancing across his lips, mirth bubbling up to the surface. “I never would’ve pegged you for a ‘bardolator.’ On the seas there was a popular one, a magical storm shipwrecking some nobles on an island with an outcast wizard. It wasn’t exactly the Sylvan version, but I heard it’s by the same bard.”

“I’ll have to ask him about it.” A moment of silence settles between the two, the object of their conversation coming into focus once more, leaving an unquiet feeling hovering in the air. There’s no breeze, just still air, chilly but dry, causing the temperature to feel colder than it actually is. Caduceus refills their cups, the dark liquid trickling out of the spout as the only noise between them. Fjord nods in thanks, bringing the tea up to his lips. It’s bitter now, the once sweet tea now abrasive, herbal bitterness. Caduceus looks upwards, towards the stars, towards the moons, finding his words the way he always does.

“There are people in this world that have a… a natural pull to them. Something powerful, something beautiful, something… indescribable. A moth is drawn to a flame, thinking it’s the moon, trying to navigate its way home, just like the ferns here are drawn to the lanterns thinking it’s the sun, trying to live. He’s my Sun away from… the sun, and I believe I’m doing just that.” His ears droop, eyebrows mimicking them in a similar, earnest manner. “I don’t know what exactly I am to him or he to me, but I do know I feel strongly for him.”

“Huh,” He feels something thump against the inside of his chest, hard and disturbing, forcing the words that come next to spew forth before he can think against it. “But what happens if the moth flies into the flame? What happens if you’re too close to the sun? What then?”

Caduceus looks back down to stare at him, almost startled at the question. Eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed, there’s a sadness brewing behind eyes he hasn’t seen before, a deeper sorrow that speaks of years of pain. It’s that instant Fjord is reminded of just how long Caduceus has been alive, how much time he’s had to live yet how little he’s had to grow. But in a flash, it’s gone, leaving behind a blank face. It’s distant, reminiscent of the time where they first met, a smile dancing across his lips devoid of any emotion.

“I’ve been in the dark for awhile now; it’s time for me to take a risk. I’m willing to put my faith in him.” He averts his gaze to look at the grass, his trembling hands, at the lichen that he’d cultivated unconsciously to create a small, multicolored barrier of fungi around him. He pulls his hands away, fingers curling timidly as he folds them in his lap.

“I just, Caduceus, I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He stands up, abandoning the half empty cup of tea on the ground. Caduceus refused to look up, still focused on the ground before him. “I know you said he’s dear to you, but you have to be careful. Please, just, think about it.”

He lets out a ragged breath, running his hand over his forehead, frustrated and upset and irritated and he doesn’t know why and—

A gentle breeze interrupts him, smelling of salt water, of home, as it combs through his hair in a soothing manner. As quickly as it comes, it disappears. He looks down at Caduceus, still holding his hands in his lap, shoulders slouched slightly.

“...I’m sorry. It’s your business, I don’t know what came over me.” He shuffles his weight from foot to foot, only met with silence. “I, I can go, if you want me to.”

At that he snaps to meet his eyes. They’re wide, pleading in a way. 

“Fjord, I—” He stops himself, pursing his lip. “Stay, please. Sit it with me.”

His heart nearly melts at the request.

And so he does what he asks.

He sits beside him, legs crossed focusing on the tree in front of them instead of the firbolg to his side. Something soft rest on his hand. He flinches, almost imperceptibly, causing it to retreat, but as he glances down he sees a pale, shaking hand hovering above his own. Tilting his head, he rotates his palm to mirror the other and gently reaches up to interlace their fingers together, squeezing it as a sign of encouragement. The hand in his own relaxes, curling its fingers around the other, grip light and faint, almost hesitant. It’s not the first time they’ve meditated side by side, but it is certainly the first time they’ve done this. It’s not unpleasant, actually, rather warm and comforting. Sharing a physical connection, something feels right, natural.

He closes his eyes, falling into the relatively new practice, taking a deep breath, imagining the push and pull of his lungs as the push and pull of the tide. A calm settles between them, the chill disappearing and in its place a subtle warmth. A breeze, the scent of honeysuckle and lavender, swirls around them as they breathe together, hearts beating in sync, focusing on the sounds around them. 

After a bit, eyes still closed, Fjord opens his mouth, the words not coming through at first before he manages to speak.

“Let’s forget this ever happened, yeah? If you want, that is.”

A gentle hand squeezes his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,  
> And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.”
> 
> Golly gosh, Caduceus is really hard to write, I don't understand how Taliesin does it every week. I've read and reread so much meta on this man and I still don’t think I did him justice, so I apologize if it came off as stilted. This chapter was like pulling teeth ahaa  
> And yes, I went to great lengths to inject Shakespeare in Exandria. No, I will not be taking any criticism (because I'm well aware of how wack it is, it took so long to figure out how it would make sense; I have my reasons)
> 
> ... So how about that holy palmers' kiss?


End file.
